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Roland Stoltzfus
Roland Stoltzfus is a 12th Generation Toreador from San Francisco. Overview A Swiss expatriate, Roland was sent to art school in Paris just before World War II broke out. Trapped in the city, but relatively privileged because he spoke German, Roland was caught on the middle of the struggle between his Toreador professors and the depraved Kindred who sided with the occupying Nazis. An accidental witness to a battle between certain of his professors and Kindred sworn to the Nazi cause, Roland was given a choice: accept the Embrace or die. Ever practical, he chose the Embrace and spent the next few decades honing his somewhat unusual sculpting skills. However, America (and the lure of big bucks from a show in New York) beckoned, and he packed his bags for an opening in the Big Apple. The show proved a disaster. The critics panned his art while the Sabbat played games with him. Before the week was out, he'd broken and fled west. He didn't stop until he reached the artist-friendly communities of San Francisco, where he rented a studio, bought some supplies, and settled down to make art that the critics couldn't ignore. That was in 1974. He's still at it. While on pleasant enough terms with the other Toreador of the city (especially Daphne, the clan elder), he tends to merely hang in the background and listen rather than flit about the parties. He is also acquainted with the Rasputin, whose poetry he appreciates, and whom he will often inform as to the direction of the artistic currents that the great and mighty of the Toreador swim in. Image Roland is quite handsome, in a slick, Euro-guy kind of way. 5'7" and starvation thin, he has a smooth face but a sculptor's calloused hands. His dirty-blonde hair is slicked back and pulled into a shoulder-length tail. Independently wealthy, he wears hand-tailored white shirts and grey suits ranging from slate to charcoal. There is a diamond stud earring in his right ear, and he usually wears expensive sunglasses as well. Otherwise, Roland doesn't wear much jewelry, and he hasn't been seen in a tie in twenty years. Nor, for that matter, has he been seen in attire that is less than formal. His students (of whom there are very few) claim that he strips to the waist to work, but then again, very few have ever seen him work. What is known is that his torso is lined with scars and burns from his work with jagged metal and blowtorches; his bravery in the face of fire when sculpting is inspiring. His face, however, remains unlined. Personal In a word, Roland is diffident. He takes no sides in politics, not any longer. What he hears, he passes on freely, but he refuses to plot and scheme. He's made certain that everyone on the street knows that he's a true neutral, so at this point, he's mainly left alone. His wit is dry and shaken, not stirred. His comments are sharp and to the point, and he does not suffer fools gladly. Anyone demonstrating themselves to be an ignoramus in matters of either art or common sense will draw nothing but his scorn, and that scorn is of exceedingly high quality. References # CTD. Immortal Eyes: The Toybox, pp. 130-131. Category:Toreador (VTM) Category:Twelfth Generation vampires